


Fire Back on Your Tongue

by OnceYoungHearts



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco, Superet (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-22 06:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19662163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceYoungHearts/pseuds/OnceYoungHearts
Summary: Ryan's parents moved him away from Vegas as a child, and no one in this new small town wanted to form a band with him. He ran away from home as a teenager, and has been struggling to make it as a solo musician ever since.  He's had an aversion to trusting people, and an even stronger one to daydreaming, but the man that he suddenly starts seeing everywhere makes him question both of those.





	1. Chapter 1

Ryan groaned as he felt the light sleep he had been in slipping away. He cracked one eye open, estimating from the sun he could see coming in the window that he'd slept on and off for about two hours. He rolled over, shoving his face into the pillow, and wishing he was someone who had no troubles falling asleep. 

His head was pounding from exhaustion, and the loud police sirens he could hear outside the window weren't helping. His earplugs barely muffled the sounds as they grew closer, sounding like they were right on top of him. He silently cursed the ridiculously expensive apartment prices in New York, wishing he could afford to be somewhere more than a sidewalk's width from a major road.

He pulled the earplugs out, still not removing his face from the pillow, and dropped them on the floor next to the mattress. He then rolled over, throwing his legs off the edge of the bed so he could use the momentum to stand up. He stood there for a moment, swaying slightly with his eyes closed as the blood returned to his head, and the pounding in his ears subsided. He eventually looked around the apartment, somehow disappointed that it was still so pathetic. 

Ryan made his way over to the one small window, high enough up to be right at his eye level. He watched a few dozen pairs of feet walk by, all moving quickly on their lunch breaks. At least, he figured it was about lunch time. Someone dropped the wrapper from their hot dog right in front of him, and he took it as a sign he was right. He shook his head and decided he had to shower today. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one, but judging by the steep decline in the amount of money he had made busking, he was probably starting to smell pretty ripe. 

He stood under the head of the shower for quite a while, zoning out and thinking about nothing. When he tried to turn up the hot water and realized there wasn't any left, he finally dragged himself out and wrapped his only towel around his waist. It still had toothpaste on the corner from where he'd used it to wipe his face last night, but he felt an overwhelming sense of apathy about that fact. 

Digging through the pile of clothes in the corner of the room, he managed to find a shirt that didn't seem to smell, and pulled that on with his jeans and some socks that weren't even close to matching. He grabbed his phone from the floor and unplugged it, glancing at the notifications even though he knew he never had any messages. He shoved it in his pocket and grabbed the guitar case leaning by the door before double locking his front door, and climbing the stairs to the street. 

\--------

Ryan had been playing in his usual place at fifth and twenty third for a few hours. He'd made good money playing some Billy Joel songs for a bachelor party that had wandered past him. At first, their request of We Didn't Start the Fire had been in jest, but when Ryan immediately cut off the remaining bars of his acoustic cover of Bohemian Rhapsody, and proved to them that he knew all the words, they stuck around and tipped him handsomely. 

The streetlights had come on, and the few people that were still out in this part of town weren't paying any attention to the skinny guy playing the guitar. The strangers hurried home after long days at work, pointedly not making eye contact with Ryan as he defaulted to his favourite songs. These ones definitely pulled less attention from passersby, but he knew them so well his mind could zone out, and he played them on auto pilot. He wasn't even aware of what song he was singing as a man about his age sat down on the sidewalk in front of him, crossing his legs and staring with rapt attention. 

Ryan's heart felt like it was beating irregularly as his fingers slipped on the strings, and his singing got quieter until he was sitting in silence, staring back at the man. "Uhh, can I help you?" Ryan intended to sound rude and intimidating, hoping to scare the guy out of his personal space, but his complete bewilderment took over when he spoke.

The man smiled at him and shook his head. "I just wanted to listen to you playing. I love that song." 

Ryan racked his brain for what song he'd been playing but couldn't remember for the life of him. He really didn't want to admit that to the stranger though. "And you needed to sit down to do that?" Ryan squinted at him before beginning another song. It was one of his go to crowd pleasers, but the man immediately frowned and shook his head. 

"No no no. If I wanted to hear another Sweet Home Alabama cover, I'd walk three blocks that way." He in no way indicated a direction. Ryan stopped playing.

"What do you want me to play?" He was pretty sure the amount of eye contact this guy was making had already surpassed the cumulative amount Ryan had received in the past five years. He felt so aware of his gaze, but couldn't tear his eyes away. The man shrugged and glanced around the mostly empty street.

"Whatever you'd be playing if I wasn't here." He smiled and leaned back on his hands, cracking his neck to each side as Ryan watched him in utter confusion.

Ryan closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was in fact alone on the street. He felt the slightly cool breeze move the hairs on his neck, and felt a smile move his lips as he played the first song that came to mind. He was certain it wasn't what the guy was expecting him to choose, but as he hit the chorus he opened his eyes to see him grinning and swaying back and forth slightly. They smiled at each other as Ryan played through the rest of the song. The guy mouthed along to the lyrics, clearly knowing them all, but never joined him in singing. Ryan wondered what his voice would sound like, and tried to remember the last time someone had actually harmonized with him. He got drunken lyrics slurred at him on a daily basis, but he missed playing with people who actually loved music as much as he did.

The song ended and they smiled softly at each other before the man got to his feet. "Thanks for that." He dropped a bill in Ryan's guitar case and started to walk away down the street, humming a tune to himself that Ryan didn't recognize. Ryan watched him go, feeling a little sad that the brief encounter had been one of the highlights of his week. He went to place his guitar back in the case when he noticed the bill the man had given him. Ryan's jaw dropped as he realised the guy had given him $500 for one song. He didn't think they even printed denominations that high anymore. 

He looked back in the direction the man had gone, but there was no sign of him. Ryan shook his head, mind racing with all the things he could spend it on. His guitar was pretty beat up, but it still sounded great. He took the usual path back to his house, cutting through parking lots and gaps in fences that hadn't been repaired. As much as his logical side told him he should buy some new clothes, or even more so, some decent food with the money, as he stopped in front of the lamp post by his house, he already knew in his heart what he was going to use it for. The flyer that had been taped there a week ago, mocking him daily with its advertised diversity of bands playing at its show, was still there. He tore it down, silently thanking the universe that he had made this money the day before the concert. 

He wandered into his apartment, scanning the unfamiliar names listed on the flyer. He hadn't had enough money to go to a live show since he'd left home. Even then, his dad had been opposed to the "depravity of the music scene" as he always put it. Ryan had snuck out and gone to a few shows before the night he forgot to wash the black Xs off his hands and his dad had freaked out. He'd grounded him for a month, and that had been Ryan's breaking point. He knew he wouldn't be able to become a musician with his father controlling his life, so he'd moved out on his own, and had been barely making ends meet ever since. 

He flopped down on the bed, holding the flyer to his chest and letting his mind wander to the man from earlier. He'd seemed so happy to just sit and listen to Ryan play. And his smile had made Ryan smile. He shook his head and told himself that he'd probably never see the guy again. New York was a huge city, and he'd never seen him before. At least he thought he would have remembered him. He was gorgeous for starters. His dark hair hung low over his eyes, but the smolder that they managed to portray was not diminished. Ryan felt a distant flutter in his stomach as he pictured the way the man had just stared at him as he played. 

As he drifted off to sleep, he realised he felt alive for the first time in years.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan awoke the next day surprisingly rested. For once he couldn't remember any nightmares having plagued him in the night, and when he glanced at the window he could see it was almost sunset. He stifled a yawn and crawled out of bed, deciding he felt like having poptarts for breakfast. 

After starting the toaster to heat them up, he ran up the stairs to the street and snagged a newspaper from the vending machine by his building. It had been broken for a while now, so if you jiggled it just right, it would open without you having to pay for it. He folded it under his arm and went back inside just as the toaster popped. He pulled them out, feeling the hot pastry burn his finger tips before he could drop it on the counter. He put his index finger in his mouth to extinguish the burn as he spread the newspaper out with his other hand. 

It was a rather small newspaper for New York standards, probably low budget since they rarely printed photographs. The headline was some pun about the homeless rates spiking, which Ryan sneered at before turning the page. He briefly skimmed the article about the concert he was going to, not taking in much more than the knowledge that one of the headlining bands had been seen fighting with each other in a Denny's. It said they would still be performing, so he didn't really care. 

He flipped to the back and started in on the crossword puzzle. He hadn't done one in a while because he always got frustrated with the amount of clues there were about the bible. He had read the thing because so many literary works referenced it, and he wanted to get all of the allusions, but he hardly cared enough to remember who was the son of whom, or what the punishment for adultery was meant to be. He struggled through a few clues that ended up contradicting each other, not knowing which ones were wrong, before giving up and throwing it in the trash. 

Ryan figured the special occasion warranted a shower, so he quickly did that before throwing on some old clothes he didn't care about, and running out the door. 

He had calculated that he would have just enough left over from the price of admission to stop at the thrift store and get a new outfit. He walked into the building a couple blocks down from his place, having to stop himself from wandering over to the book section. Even at two dollars a book, he knew he couldn't justify another indulgent purchase. He sighed to himself and started scanning the rack of jeans. It was easy for him to pick out the few pairs that stood a chance at being long enough, so he gathered those in his arms and moved onto the shirts. The pickings were slim, but one shirt stood out from the rest as being intentionally worn looking. While all the others seemed to have been bought in the 80s and lived in the backs of closets until their owners died or finally donated them, this one was clearly a new shirt made to look vintage. He squinted at the band logo emblazoned on it, as he felt a vague recognition that it was one of the bands that was playing tonight. He figured that was too great a coincidence to pass up, and hefted it on top of the arm full of jeans he was starting to struggle under the weight of. Considering the most physical exertion he got in a day was going up the nine stairs in his apartment, he felt like his muscles were on fire holding the pants. 

He waited for a few seconds at the dressing rooms, looking for an employee to let him into one, but when a door opened and the person who had been using the stall left, he quickly took that one and closed the door behind himself. He dropped all of the clothes in a heap on the floor, and pulled the tshirt on with a random pair of jeans. They were an alright length, but not nearly tight enough for his liking. All the pairs he already owned hung off his hips, since he definitely had not been eating enough. He really wanted to take this opportunity to find a pair that would stick to him like a second skin. This intention was in no way related to the fact that he hadn't had sex in multiple months. No, that was purely coincidence.

On the third pair he tried, he managed to get them most of the way up his thighs before the struggle began, and he had to hop back and forth between his feet to pull them up. By the time he was sucking in to do up the zipper, he knew they were the ones. He slipped his feet back into his shoes, regretting that he couldn't replace them too, and grabbed his old clothes off of the hook. He paid at the front counter, getting a weird look from the cashier for all the crumpled up bills he pulled out of his wallet. She looked like she was holding back a laugh, and Ryan's face blushed as he realised what she was thinking he did to make the money. He mumbled a thank you to her, and threw his old clothes in the garbage on his way out, probably not helping her opinion about his job. 

Ryan started walking in the direction of the venue, and made it a few blocks before deciding to ask someone for the time. There were two guys standing outside of an expensive hotel building, sharing a cigarette between them. "Hey, sorry to bother you, but do you have the time?"

The shorter man smiled at him before passing the cigarette back and checking his watch. "It's quarter to nine." His eyes seemed to glisten in the streetlights, and Ryan was inexplicably reminded of the man he'd met the previous night. He didn't realise he'd been staring until the taller guy cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around the guy's waist, pulling him up against his side. He glared at Ryan in a clearly aggressive way. "Did you want a smoke?" The shorter man addressed him again, still smiling even though his partner was being defensive. The guy with his arm around him made a displeased grunting noise.

"Actually that would be great. Thank you." Ryan accepted the cigarette and put it between his lips, only hesitating for a few moments when he realised the aggressive one was going to light it for him. He cupped his hand around the flame, careful not to actually touch the guy's hand and make him more angry. He took a long drag, making sure it had fully ignited before thanking them again, and continuing to walk towards the concert.

He couldn't help himself from glancing back at the couple once before he turned the corner. The taller man was still frowning at the other, but when they kissed, his face softened the smallest amount. Ryan caught himself grinning at the odd pair. 

The line outside of the venue made him stop in his tracks. Not only did it wrap around the whole building, it seemed to be made up almost exclusively of teenagers. There were a few people that looked closer to his age, and a couple parents accompanying their children and looking less than pleased about it. Ryan watched his hopes of getting laid die before his eyes, and made his way to the back of the line with a slight pout on his face. 

The three girls that he was standing behind were talking excitedly about one of the bands. "Which guy's your favourite?" One of the girls asked the other. The third was standing a few feet away vaping and barely following the conversation.

"I think the drummer. He's just so cute." The girl who asked the question got a really condescending look on her face that made Ryan immediately hate her.

"You mean Spencer? Oh my god, do you not know their names?" She laughed at the girl, who just turned a deep shade of red and stared at her feet. Ryan had scoffed loudly before he even realised he was doing it. The girl whirled on him, looking ready to attack. She noted his shirt, took a look at his face, and immediately her expression turned to what you would call bedroom eyes. "Now, I bet you know all about them. You're probably a true fan like me." She placed her hand on his arm and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Who's your favourite member of The Flying Rabbits?" 

Ryan tried to look down at his shirt as inconspicuously as possible, checking that he was indeed wearing the merch for that band. What a stupid name. He had a brief internal debate of whether to just say the drummer's name, since it was now the only one he knew, but he felt a need to stand up for the girl who had been called out for not knowing. "Knowing about the members is irrelevant to the music." He said coldly and he pulled his arm out of her grasp. The other girl smiled at him gratefully. He winked at her, immediately feeling mortified that he'd felt cool enough to do that. The girl who had grabbed his arm made a whimpering noise and stalked over to where the third girl was smoking.

The girl he'd stuck up for stepped closer. "Thank you for that." She whispered, eyeing her friends to make sure they weren't listening. 

"Truth be told, I don't know any of the bands that are playing. I got this shirt at a thrift store twenty minutes ago." He whispered back. She burst into a fit of giggles, and the other girls glared at her. Just then, the line started moving, and Ryan gratefully stopped paying attention to the girls and shuffled with the rest of the line into the building.


	3. Chapter 3

The venue was packed to bursting, and Ryan had the distinct impression that they were breaking multiple parts of the fire code. It was all general admission, and his ticket had cost less than expected. He weaved his way through the packed crowd to the bar, feeling both guilty and excited about having a drink after so long. He settled on a beer with a low alcohol content, and figured that was a good compromise. It definitely wouldn't get him drunk, but with just the pitiful poptarts from earlier that day in his stomach, he'd likely still feel a buzz. 

He picked a spot against the wall, trying to pace his consumption of the drink while scouring the crowd for any one who looked interesting. He noticed a guy about his age, with short cut hair and a decently full beard. The guy wasn't Ryan's usual type, but he really didn't feel in a position to be that choosy, so he made his way over to him. The guy had been tucked away in a corner of the venue, seeming even less into the scene than Ryan felt. 

"Hey." Ryan greeted the guy, and felt bad when he flinched. The man looked at him suspiciously before returning the greeting.

"Hello." Ryan tried to smile in what he hoped was a reassuring way and stuck out his hand to shake. 

"I'm Ryan." The man shook his hand and nodded, before looking away. Ryan was seriously wondering if this guy he was barely attracted to was worth the effort he was having to put in. "And your name is?..." The guy's eyes shot back to Ryan, taking in his shirt before studying his face once more. Ryan had no idea what the guy's problem was, so his face was probably a picture of confusion.

"Uhh, my name's Jon." He said hesitantly, waiting for a reaction. Ryan grinned at him, feeling like he'd won a small victory in at least getting the guy's name.

"Lovely to meet you, Jon." He leaned against the wall next to Jon, their shoulders touching. Jon seemed to relax, and Ryan took that as a good sign. "So, do you like any of the bands in particular?" He was struggling to make conversation, and felt really out of practice. 

Jon made a sort of surprised laughing noise and shook his head. "I guess you could say that. But I just love music in general, so I'm excited for the whole line up." Ryan nodded in agreement and smiled to himself. He seemed to have found the only decent person in the building. "You like The Flying Rabbits?" Jon nodded to his shirt. 

Ryan didn't feel like telling the thrift store story again, and decided to fib a little instead. "I'm pretty new to them actually. Don't expect me to know all the lyrics to every song, but I like their sound." At least Ryan sure hoped he would like their sound. There weren't many genres of music he couldn't appreciate on some level, and since they were one of the headliners he hoped they had to be somewhat competent. "Is that the band you came to see?"

Jon sighed deeply, and Ryan instantly wondered what he'd said wrong. Before Jon could respond, the lights all went out, plunging them into darkness as a single note rang out on a bass guitar, and the opening act came onto the stage one at a time. Jon looked sideways at Ryan and shrugged before turning his attention back to the stage. 

Ryan felt himself grinning as he nodded along to the rhythm of the opening act. The lead vocalist was so full of energy, commanding attention as she marched back and forth at the front of the stage, but Ryan couldn't tear his eyes off of the drummer. He was playing like his life depended on it, beating the shit out of the drum set. Ryan had never learned to play the drums, but watching the amount of fun this guy was having kind of made him want to take it up.

Jon noticed the look on his face and they smiled at each other, both nodding in time to the music. That band played a short set, only four songs, although Ryan wished they'd played more. There was a short break while the roadies cleared the stage and wheeled in the instruments for the next band. "Wow, they were really good." Ryan turned against the wall to face Jon. 

"Yeah. They're good guys. Really care about the music." Ryan was impressed that he seemed to know so much about them.

"Are you a musician?" Ryan got a little excited at the idea of finally forming a band. He'd always wanted to be in one, but he'd never found the right people. 

"Yeah, I play bass mostly." Ryan smiled, already trying to figure out how to convince him they needed to start a two piece band together. How they'd get by without drums he wasn't sure yet, but his determination alone had gotten him this far in life. 

"Are you in a band?" Ryan asked hesitantly.

"Not currently. Between jobs I guess you could say." He flashed Ryan a smile that looked far from genuine as the second band started playing. Ryan's body was practically vibrating with excitement as he watched the second band. He couldn't believe how fortuitous it was that he'd met Jon at the first concert he'd been to in so long. 

The second band that came on once again had a hypnotizing lead singer, but this time no other members were able to steal Ryan's attention. The guy pranced around the stage like Freddy Mercury reincarnated, and ground his pelvis up against his band mates from time to time. Ryan found himself entranced by the guy, even if he could barely make out any of the lyrics he was singing. At one point the guy jumped down onto the barrier that kept the girls at the front from climbing on the stage, and the fans screamed their lungs out. He looked out over the crowd, and Ryan felt himself blush a little when the guy's eyes landed on him and stayed there for multiple seconds. 

Now that Jon was a potential band mate, Ryan had already started thinking about who else he could potentially hook up with. There was no way he was going to risk inter-band dating; that rarely ended well. The singer climbed back on stage, his eyes now finding Ryan more frequently as he finished the set. Ryan smiled back and bit his lip, hardly caring if he was coming across as a desperate fanboy, so long as the tactic worked. 

Jon noticed this happening and leaned close to Ryan's ear, yelling over the music. "I can introduce you to Matt later if you want." Ryan blushed deeply and tried to determine if Jon was mocking him or not. He seemed to be genuine in the offer.

"Do you know everyone?" Ryan yelled back. Jon merely shrugged in response. "Honestly yeah, that'd be great." This night was turning out pretty great for him. The band that Ryan had figured out was called Superet after a lot of call and response with the audience, left the stage. 

They came back on to clear their own equipment, which Ryan felt a wave of respect for. The roadies came back out to uncover the drums and other instruments the headliners would use. Then a banner on the back of the stage unfurled, showing the name and logo of The Flying Rabbits. The crowd exploded with screaming and chanting. Ryan was pretty sure one of the girls near him was going to start crying. It took him a few seconds before he noticed Jon had gone very stiff beside him, and looked beyond uncomfortable. 

Ryan put a hand on his arm, suddenly figuring out what was going on. "That's the band you used to be in?" Jon closed his eyes and nodded slowly. His exhale was long and strained, and Ryan could tell how pained he was about it, even though he barely knew the guy. 

"This is the first show I'll watch them perform from the audience. It was my decision to leave, but it still hurts." Ryan had a million questions, but Jon really seemed like he didn't want to talk about it, so he settled for looping his arm around Jon's shoulders and rubbing his arm in a way he hoped was comforting. 

The music started and the band burst onto the stage, full of energy and looking like they were having the time of their lives. When Ryan looked at Jon's face he seemed distant and closed in on himself. Ryan squeezed his shoulder again and tried to focus on the band. That was when his eyes widened in surprise and he gasped loudly. 

"Are you okay?" Jon asked, seemingly taking any excuse to stop paying attention to the band on the stage. Ryan felt frozen to the spot, seeing that the guy who had listened to him play and given him the huge tip the night before was the lead singer. When Ryan didn't respond to the question, Jon elbowed him in the rib cage. "Dude, what's wrong?" Ryan couldn't pry his eyes off of the guy. He owned the stage in a way that was different from the singers in the other acts. It wasn't assertive like the first girl, and it didn't feel like a performance like Matt's. It looked like he was born to be on that stage. His smile warmed Ryan's whole body, and it took everything in him to respond to Jon's question.

"Uhh, I uh, met that guy the other day." Jon furrowed his eyebrows and looked between Ryan and the stage. "What's his name?"

Jon looked back to the stage just in time to catch the singer's eye, and Ryan noticed the brief falter of his smile as he saw Jon standing with Ryan's arm around him. "His name's Brendon."


	4. Chapter 4

Brendon. Ryan heard the name echo around his head as he listened to the man singing. His voice was incredible. Ryan had never enjoyed listening to someone so much. The music was good, kind of pop-y for his liking, but Brendon's vocals lifted the song to a whole new level. Not to mention the guy couldn't stand still. After he'd seen Jon, he'd decidedly avoided their side of the stage all together, but he still bounced all over, doing silly dances and working the crowd into a frenzy. 

Jon seemed to have loosened up a bit as he watched them play. He had the tiniest smile on his lips, although it definitely had a sad undertone to it. The second song came to an end, having been just as upbeat and catchy as the first, and the band paused to have some banter amongst themselves as they took a water break. 

"Now I'd like to take the time to introduce you all to my friends up here. I'd like to think everyone at this show is my friend, and I'm sure you all know him already, but this is mister Spencer Smith on the drums!" Spencer played a little solo and took a bow as the crowd cheered and clapped. "Now this guy may be new to you. He's only been in the band for a short while, but I think you're all going to love him. Ladies and other people, mister Dallon Weekes on the bass!" Dallon waved his hand around and sunk into a low curtsy as the crowd laughed and shrieked. They were clearly fans of the new addition to the band. 

Dallon returned to his microphone and addressed the audience. "This last guy needs no introduction." He took a dramatic pause as the audience reached new levels with their screams. "He is the one." Ryan covered his ears as the girl closest to him came close to passing out. "He is... the only." Ryan was impressed with this guy's flare for the theatrical. "He is mister Brendon Urie." Brendon bounded back up to center stage from where he'd been talking to Spencer at the drum set, and took a deep bow, sweeping the stage with his fingertips as the girls in the front row reached out desperately, trying to touch him. Ryan caught himself smirking at the band's theatrics. It made for a fun show.

Every song they played seemed different from the last, but when Brendon sat down at a piano and played a ballad while the other members left the stage, Ryan realised he was holding back tears. The song was full of pain and longing, and with the emotion Brendon put into it, Ryan knew for certain that he had written it himself. He wanted to ask Jon what the song was about, but when he turned to look at the man, his jaw was hanging open, and he was staring like he'd never heard it before. Suddenly the lyrics about betrayal and feeling worthless were a little more clear. 

Jon took off, heading to a fire exit behind the bar. He ignored the looks of vague recognition that the bartenders sent him as he sped walked out of the building. Ryan hesitated before following him, figuring he needed some support, and he wasn't going to leave his only prospective bandmate hanging. Unlike when Jon went by, the staff tried to stop Ryan from getting through, but he dodged around their grasp and ran out of the door. 

Jon was sitting on the curb with his face in his hand, shaking. Ryan slowly crouched down next to him and placed a hand on his back. "Hey, are you alright?" He hadn't had to deal with people crying other than himself, and he didn't know what to say to him.

Jon let out a frustrated growl, and when his head whipped up to look at Ryan, he saw that he wasn't crying; he was shaking with anger. "How fucking dare they?" He spat. Ryan recoiled a little, startled by the expression on the guy's face. "That was a personal attack at me, and they think it's okay to get up on stage and sing that shit to a crowd?" He was almost shouting by the end of his rant, and when he'd jumped to his feet, Ryan had taken multiple step back. Jon noticed the fear on his face looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to yell at you. You don't need to hear about my drama."

"I uh... I just get uncomfortable when people..." Ryan wasn't sure how to word it. He knew Jon wasn't mad at him, but his heart rate and shallow breathing clearly didn't get that.

Jon shook his head and pulled him into a hug. "You don't have to explain. I'm sorry." He let go of Ryan and they stood, looking at each other for a few moments. 

"You don't want to go back inside, do you?" Ryan asked. Jon quickly shook his head. 

"I honestly thought I was ready to see their show, but now I'm not sure I ever will be." Ryan nudged a rock on the ground with his shoe while he thought of ways to keep Jon from leaving. He got the distinct impression that if he left now, Ryan would never see him again. Before he could come up with some brilliant plan, Jon solved the problem for him. "We can still go to the after party and meet Matt if you want, though. I'm sure I'll manage to avoid Bren and Spence." 

Ryan paused, trying to remember who Matt was, before it clicked that he'd been in the band before Brendon's. He was already having trouble picturing the guy's face. It seemed like Jon would have preferred offering to let Ryan take his left kidney, but Ryan felt an inkling that this could be his only chance to meet successful people in the industry, so he went for the selfish option. "Yeah, let's still go." He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face as he followed Jon down the street to wherever the party was going to be. 

\---------

They'd gotten to the bar before everyone else, since the concert had still been going when they left. It was completely empty other than the staff, and Ryan was surprised by the severity of the security they had to pass through to get in. Even though the bouncer knew Jon by sight, they still got patted down, and had metal detectors passed over them. Ryan felt a little piece of his soul die when the security guy asked who he was, and he sputtered, caught off guard until Jon swooped in with a "He's with me." and they were finally allowed to go in.

Jon offered to buy Ryan a drink, and he accepted, if for no other reason than to have something to do with his hands. He was sitting alone in a booth as people finally started to make their way into the bar. Jon had offered to share the weed he was currently smoking in a back room, but Ryan had declined, resignedly keeping his mind clear for the social interactions to come. 

Ryan watched the people entering, not recognizing any of them as band members. He wondered how they got on the guest list. Some seemed to have the air of entitlement of celebrities, but he guessed some were friends or family of the bands. He was looking over his shoulder for Jon when a voice near him got his attention.

"Hey! It is you. I wasn't sure." The girl that he'd stuck up for in the line was standing at his table, smiling down at him. Ryan smiled back, and then noticed the man standing behind her, looking off into the crowd. The girl turned around to see what Ryan was gaping at. "Oh yeah, that's how I got in here. Spencer, this is the guy that was nice to me in the queue for the show." Spencer turned his attention to Ryan and reached to shake his hand as Ryan scrambled to his feet. 

He felt inexplicably starstruck. "Hey, I'm Ryan, nice to meet you. It was a great show you guys put on." He hoped Spencer didn't know they'd left halfway through the set. His handshake was firm, and his smile was genuinely friendly. Ryan liked him immediately. 

"Nice to meet you too. That's really cool of you to come to the defense of a stranger like that." 

The girl told the story of how she'd waited for the band outside of the venue, and had told Spencer the whole story. "He invited me along to the after party. How did you manage to get in?"

"Oh, I met this guy in the crowd. I'm not sure where he is right now..." He stood on his toes and looked around the, now full, bar. 

"Jon's probably off getting high." A voice cut in from behind them and they all turned to see Brendon. He looked annoyed with Ryan's presence. 

"Jon's here?" Spencer immediately questioned. 

Brendon shrugged, looking at Ryan. "Why don't you ask his boyfriend?" Spencer inhaled sharply and started coughing.

Ryan's eye widened as he rushed out a response. "Woah, no. We just met like an hour ago. We're not even at the level of friends yet." Brendon squinted and stepped a little closer to him. Spencer looked uncomfortable, and made a gesture with his head to the girl, who followed him off into the crowd. Ryan felt the discomfort that came with Brendon's extreme eye contact return. 

"You're the guy." Ryan picked his drink up from the table and tried to feign confusion. "The musician on the street." Brendon elaborated.

Ryan blushed deeply at the way his profession seemed when put like that, especially coming from someone who was actually successful in the industry. "Umm, I guess I should thank you for that tip you left." He could feel his face getting steadily warmer under Brendon's gaze, and the close proximity that they were now standing to each other was not helping. Brendon made a dismissive nodding motion and stepped impossibly closer. Ryan was pretty sure he had stopped breathing a while ago. 

Someone called his name from across the bar, and Brendon held up his index finger to them before turning back to Ryan. "I didn't catch your name." 

He took a deep breath and ran his tongue over his lips before answering, noting with no small amount of pride that Brendon followed the motion with his eyes. "Ryan. Ryan Ross." Brendon silently nodded at him once more before making his way across the bar to the person who had called to him.

Ryan's entire body felt like it was coursing with electricity as he watched Brendon walk away.


	5. Chapter 5

Jon returned to Ryan's side seconds after Brendon had left. "I definitely wasn't hiding around the corner until the coast was clear." Jon winked at him exaggeratedly. Ryan smiled without really registering what he had said. He was still staring at Brendon across the bar as the man effortlessly joked and told stories to the people around him. He had a level of charisma that Ryan had never encountered before, and it was difficult to pay attention to anything else when Brendon was in the room. "Heyyyy." Jon waved his hand in front of his face, snapping a few times to finally get his eyes off of Brendon.

"Yes. Hello. Hi." Ryan smiled guiltily at Jon, who now looked more than a little stoned. Jon looked at him long and hard before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Wow, you've got it bad." Ryan choked on his drink that he'd been taking a sip of and felt the burn of it trying to come out of his nose. "No need to be ashamed. Brendon's a good looking dude." Jon nudged him playfully with his elbow. 

"Did you guys, uh, used to be a thing?" Ryan asked. Jon looked very confused and shook his head. "He just seemed kind of jealous when he accused me of being your boyfriend." Ryan tried to say the line jokingly. Like, how ridiculous for anyone to say that. Clearly we're band mates and nothing more. Right?!

Jon, however, didn't seem to find it funny. "You told him we're not dating?" He said, a little hysterically. Ryan felt a little insulted that Jon found the idea of dating him so repulsive. 

"Yeah." He said, maybe pouting just the smallest amount. Jon exhaled as he looked around the room, his eyes eventually landing on Spencer and the girl, who were still chatting at the bar. "Do you want to, maybe, dance or something?" Ryan hadn't felt this uncomfortable asking someone to dance since he'd approached the popular girl at school, Keltie, when he was ten. She'd apparently had a boyfriend, and had let him down gently. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure he hadn't danced publicly since that day. He was getting ready to rescind his offer when Jon shrugged and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the middle of the dance floor. 

Ryan hadn't taken into account the type of dancing this crowd was doing. It was all very sweaty and sexual, and he and Jon were the only ones dancing together without touching in some way. He became very aware of how gangly and awkward his limb were as he attempted to move them to the rhythm of the bass with any modicum of intention. He longingly thought of the drink he'd abandoned on the table and wondered if being more drunk would make this less painful. The only thing that helped his inescapable self-awareness, was the fact that Jon wasn't even looking at him. He didn't have to turn around to know that Jon's eyes were focused on Spencer and the girl at the bar. Ryan had to hold back his comment about how Jon had teased him for staring at Brendon, and yet here he was doing the same thing. The hypocrisy of it all. 

The current song ended, and faded into a slow song. Everyone around them started swaying to the slower tempo, their bodies pressed flush against one another. Jon's eyes finally found Ryan's, and they gave each other embarrassed smiles. Ryan placed his hands on the back of Jon's neck, feeling exactly as he had at that fifth grade dance. 

Ryan went back and forth in his mind on which question to pose first. He didn't want Jon to shut down if he asked why he left the band, so he started with what he hoped was a safe option. "So... Are you looking to start a new band?" He aimed for the question to be casual, as if the whole future of his life didn't ride on Jon's answer. 

They swayed back and forth, with Jon's hands gripping Ryan's hips. "I mean I'm not actively looking. If I met the right people, I guess I'd be open to it. But after the way the last one fell apart... I'd be fine going solo if it saved the disagreements and bitterness." Ryan nodded, trying to show his understanding and not shout out It's me! I'm the right person! At the top of his lungs. It was time to play it cool.

"You know, I'd be interested-" He was interrupted by a throat being cleared nearby. Brendon was standing there, glaring in so subtle way at Jon. 

"Would you mind if I stole your dance partner?" Jon hesitated, not able to form any actual words. "I think there's someone else you should be dancing with." Jon looked back over to where Spencer was still standing, and managed to catch him just as he turned away and pretended he hadn't been staring at Jon and Ryan. 

"Yeah, I think you're right." His arms dropped off of Ryan and he pushed past him without sparing so much as a backwards glance. Brendon stepped into his personal space and offered his hand. Ryan took it reluctantly, his annoyance battling with his attraction. Brendon took his hand and slipped it expertly around his neck, pulling Ryan right up against him, and beginning to lead them through a simple slow dance. 

When they spun in the right direction, Ryan caught sight of Jon and Spencer speaking heatedly against a wall. The girl from earlier was no where in sight. Ryan sighed. "So you do like him after all?" Brendon smirked. Ryan had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the guy. 

"No. You just interrupted a conversation we were having. Your timing is incredibly bad, I'll have you know." Brendon quirked an eyebrow at him, seeming intrigued. 

"A conversation about...?" Brendon prodded. The song ended and a more typical club beat came on, making it difficult to hear. Brendon rotated in Ryan's arms and pulled them down around his waist, so his ass was now grinding distractedly against Ryan's crotch. Ryan narrowly avoided letting a moan fall out of mouth, for which he would be forever grateful. Brendon was only slightly shorter than him, but he bent his knees and leaned back into him, so Ryan was able to hook his chin over Brendon's shoulder. 

Ryan closed his eyes and tried to think about anything other than the man he was holding. It took multiple seconds for him to remember that Brendon was expecting an answer to his question. He shifted his lips slightly closer to Brendon's ear, feeling him shiver when his breath ghosted over it. "I was trying to get him to start a band with me, if you must know." Brendon didn't react in any way. He shifted his hips so they aligned more directly with Ryan's, and that moan he'd managed to conceal earlier finally slipped out. He didn't have to see Brendon's face to know he was smirking. 

Brendon spun around in his grip once more, slotting his leg in between Ryan's. He placed his own lips to Ryan's ear while draping his arms around Ryan's neck. "You know what's better than being in a band?" Ryan couldn't do much more than shake his head and try to find friction against Brendon's thigh. "Me getting you signed to my label as a solo artist." 

Ryan felt like he was in some crazy dream he couldn't wake up from. Here he was, grinding up against a relative stranger, who happened to be a famous musician, and he was being offered a record deal. He pulled back to study Brendon's face. This was the epitome of too good to be true. "Why would you do that for me?" 

"To get to spend more time with you?" Ryan scoffed at this. "Also because you're talented." Ryan narrowed his eyes at this. 

"You watched me play two and a half covers. They weren't even my own songs." 

Brendon nodded. "That's true, but you wouldn't have to write your own songs. It's really not necessary. You love music, and you look good playing it. You'd be a sensation overnight." Ryan felt deeply torn with the offer. It seemed like a great opportunity, but everything in him was screaming not to take it. 

He summoned every ounce of confidence he had in him and slid his hands down Brendon's back to cup his ass. "I'll have to think about it." He darted his tongue out to flick at the shell of Brendon's ear as he heard a growl emit out of the other man. All of his breath left him as he felt overcome with his desire. His eyes slipped closed and he bit his lip as he forced himself to step back and let go of Brendon. Brendon's arms dropped to his sides reluctantly as his gaze remained fixed on Ryan's mouth. "Do you have a business card?" Ryan was impressed to hear how steady his voice came out. 

Brendon pointed to a tall guy with tattoos standing near the exit. "Get one from Zack on your way out." Ryan nodded and started pushing his way through the crowd to Jon, who he saw was now alone at the bar, slamming back shots of whiskey. 

"Didn't go so well for you?" Ryan tried to joke. Jon shot him a glare before lowering his gaze to the obvious bulge in his pants. 

"Went pretty well for you though?" Ryan shifted uncomfortably on the spot. 

"Want to get out of here?" Jon nodded enthusiastically. 

"Fuck yes." Jon lead the way out of the bar, not noticing Ryan stop to get the business card from Zack on their way past, before catching up with him. 

Now that he had other options, Ryan felt more confident about his pitch. "Would you want to hang out and play some music some time? No pressure or anything. If we don't click, it is what it is." 

Jon looked at him sideways, and Ryan noted the slight wobble to his walk as he stepped to the curb to hail a passing cab. "Sure. What do I have to lose?" Jon pulled out his wallet and handed Ryan a card with his name and number on it. It still proclaimed him as bassist for The Flying Rabbits. "Have a good night, Ryan. It was nice to meet you."

Ryan smiled, looking up from the card. "Likewise." He watched as Jon got into the cab and disappeared around a corner. The smile lingered on his face the whole time.

Ryan walked down the street to his house, feeling like the two competing business cards he carried weighed more than mere paper should.


	6. Chapter 6

Ryan was pacing back and forth in front of the payphone closest to his house. It was on a fairly busy street and most of the passersby were shooting him strange looks, which said a lot for New York. He'd just finished paying his landlord the remaining amount of money he'd earned off of the tips from two nights ago, and it had almost been enough to square up his debt. He'd only kept enough pocket change to make this phone call, and he was really hoping not to get a voicemail. He'd abandoned his cell at home, not having been able to pay the phone bill.

Now, the question was who to call. He had been up all night going back and forth. Jon or Brendon. It really didn't seem like he could have both. He held one of the quarters in his fist, seriously wondering if he should just flip a coin and let it decide which path to take. That was stupid though; he knew what made the most sense to him. This thing with Jon could be organic. He could build it from the ground up and play his own songs. If he took the record deal, he'd become a puppet for the industry. He was aware that money was one of the only pros on that side of the argument, but it was a big enough pro to be making him have a crisis over the decision. 

He let out a frustrated screech and shoved one of the business cards back into his pocket, putting the money into the phone and entering the number on the other one. The phone rang twice, and he started breathing more shallowly. The third ring sounded and he stopped breathing altogether. By the time Jon picked up on the fifth ring, Ryan could taste bile in his throat. "Hello?" Jon's voice sounded rough, and Ryan was pretty sure he'd still been asleep, even though it was well into the afternoon. 

Ryan finally let out the air in his lungs and relaxed the tiniest amount. "Hey, it's Ryan. Probably not cool to call you the next day, but I was hoping you'd be up for playing together today. Or even just hanging out. If you're not up for that." He cut off his ramblings trying not to sound as desperate as he was.

"Oh, hey, yeah man, that'd be great." Jon gave him his address and told him to come over in an hour or so. Ryan ran back to his apartment as quickly as his feet and tight pants would allow. Jon's address was on the other side of town, and he'd have to take a cab to get there. He really hadn't planned on that. He silently cursed himself for not keeping at least some pocket change, but the landlord had been really angry about how behind he was, and he'd been far too distracted by actually making the call to think about what would happen after that. 

He grabbed his guitar case and ran back out of the flat, only spending a maximum of ten seconds actually inside of the building. He dodged past people on the sidewalk, managing to only whack a few people with the instrument. By the time he sat down on his usual, busy corner, he was fully panting and couldn't catch his breath. He was once again annoyed at how out of shape he was. While he sat, cross-legged, trying to find enough air to sing, his fingers shifted between a few different songs on the strings. He started off with some of his usuals, but by the time he was humming along, trying to remember the words, he realised he was playing one of The Flying Rabbits' songs he'd heard the previous night. 

A young girl stopped to listen to him, her mother continuing to walk along without noticing. She smiled at Ryan and started to sing the words, which she clearly knew much better than him. He'd had the melody stuck in his head ever since the show, but the only words he could remember were the chorus. He joined her in singing.

Took some time and tried everything to forget

Seeing you is the feeling of a tongue being bit

My soul has been put on display for all to see

You need to finally let go and let it be

They were pretty macabre lyrics for this girl to know, but Ryan smiled at her nonetheless. Her mom finally realised she'd been left behind, and marched back to drag her away. Ryan watched them go as he continued to play the song without words. When he looked over into his open guitar case, he saw he'd already made fifty dollars and his eyes widened. He hadn't even noticed people approaching him. He made a mental note to learn the rest of that song since it was clearly a crowd-pleaser. He pocketed the money and put his guitar back in the case, being impressed with how it had been such an easy task to make enough.

He flagged down a cab and gave the driver Jon's address, slowly getting more nervous as he got closer to the place. He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths, trying to make himself calm the fuck down. 

Jon's townhouse was adorably picturesque. It had a wide set of stairs leading to the front door, and a red brick exterior. He suddenly felt very happy that Jon hadn't offered to meet at his place. He rang the doorbell, using every bit of willpower to not fidget while waiting. After what he judged to be about five minutes, during which he'd talked himself out of re-ringing the bell at least 37 times, Jon finally cracked the door open and stared at him through the opening.

"Please tell me you're willing to get baked with me." Ryan laughed mostly out of surprise, before figuring it would likely help with his nerves. 

"Umm, yeah, I guess. Sure." Jon grinned widely and swung the door open for him to enter. Ryan saw he was wearing jeans and a tshirt, with no socks on, which seemed weird because all the flooring was made up of a cold tile.

Jon lead him through various rooms that seemed hardly used, and they ended up in the most beautiful music room Ryan had ever seen. There were instruments all over the walls, along with a drum kit, a small piano, a few microphones, and a set up to record anything that was played and produce it.

Ryan was in too much awe to realize he was standing in the doorway with his mouth open until Jon spoke. "The band always brought in more money than I knew what to do with." He shrugged, somehow making it sound humble. Ryan nodded silently and sat down on one of the couches against the wall, leaving his guitar laying on the ground, still in its case. Jon flopped down next to him, pulling out a drawer in the table beside him, and grabbing some prerolled joints. He passed one to Ryan with a lighter, and Ryan lit his before passing the lighter back. 

They smoked in silence for a bit. Ryan was trying to pace his intake, since he was likely a lightweight, and couldn't come up with any conversation to make. Jon seemed more than happy with this. When they had both finished, Jon got up and waved his arm at the wall of guitars. "You're welcome to use any of them, if you want. Or you can use yours if you'd rather." 

Ryan scoffed and jumped to his feet, feeling a little lightheaded already. "No way, man. These are stunning. I'd love to borrow one." He scanned the wall, wanting to make sure he made the right decision. Finally, an Epiphone Casino caught his eye. It reminded him of The Beatles, which was never a bad thing, and the maple body with f holes was too beautiful to pass up. Jon pulled it down for him, and he immediately plugged it into an amp and started tuning it by ear. 

"That one suits you." Jon noted. He picked up an acoustic bass and joined him back on the couch. Jon started to play and immediately Ryan was intrigued. "I've had this line stuck in my head for ages, but haven't been able to make anything decent to go with it." Ryan listened to him play it a few times through before he joined in, he improvised some chords and was humming a tune where lyrics could go. Jon's eyebrows shot up as the two instruments worked together, playing back and forth as they figured each other out. Ryan was grinning and having the time of his life, the high starting to hit him as swayed back and forth to the music. "Dude, I love that." Jon enthused, causing Ryan to break out in giggles.

"Do you know what sort of lyrics you want to go with it?" Ryan searched his mind for some he had come up with that would fit the sound of the music they had made.

Jon shook his head. "I hadn't gotten anywhere near that stage with it. Truth be told, Bren always wrote the lyrics. He was really controlling with the whole song writing process. I'm kind of out of practice." Ryan was smiling at him in a knowing way. "What?" 

Ryan let out another giggle, aware of how stoned he was acting. "We can do whatever we want." He stage whispered. Jon nodded, confused. "No, like, literally anything. We can do it all." Ryan continued, finding this idea hilarious. Jon smirked at him as Ryan toppled sideways on the couch, gripping his stomach as he shook with silent laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of what his life had become. 

Jon's phone vibrated with a notification, and he got up to get it from where it had been lying on the piano bench. When he looked at the screen he froze, gripping the piano for support as his thumb hovered over the keyboard, not sure what to type back. Ryan eventually noticed this happening, after multiple moments of Jon's inactivity.

"What is it?" He asked, finally managing to get his laughter in check.

"Uhh..." Jon didn't look away from the phone screen. "I got a text."

"Yes, I'd figured that much out on my own." Ryan rolled his eyes. "Care to share?"

Jon bit his lip and finally made eye contact with Ryan. "Spencer is asking if I'll go on a double date with you and Brendon." Jon and Ryan stared at each other for a solid five seconds before laughing so hard they started crying.


	7. Chapter 7

Jon stood in front of the mirror, slipping on and off various pairs of flip flops to determine which pair went best with his outfit. Ryan sighed at the ceiling from his place on Jon's bed. "You're aware that it seriously doesn't matter which ones you pick, right?" Jon shot him a glare before redirecting his attention to the important task at hand. "Are you going to tell me about this mess I'm walking into here?" Jon made a noncommittal humming noise, indicating he really wasn't listening. "Jon." Ryan snapped, his nerves admittedly getting the best of him. "Please tell me what this is so I don't put my foot in my mouth. Did you and Spencer used to date? What is going on?" His high had started to wear off a few hours after he realized Jon actually wanted to go on this date. At first it had seemed like a funny joke, but now he was wearing one of Jon's dress shirts and his stomach was churning uncomfortably. 

"No, we've never dated. Not that I didn't hint at it a bunch of times. He always had a girlfriend, or managed to change the subject." He settled on a black pair that Ryan guessed he saved for special occasions. "God, this is going to be so awkward." 

"Why are we even doing this?" Ryan asked, not for the first time. "I get that you like him, but why does it have to be a double date? Having us there can't be beneficial." 

Jon shrugged. "If this is the only way I can get Spencer Smith to go on a date with me, I'll take what I can get." He was fighting a smile that wanted to break out across his face. "This is really happening. Right? I'm not just super stoned and having a good dream?" 

Ryan smiled fondly at him and walked over to place his hands on Jon's shoulders. He stared him in the eye, making his tone clear and serious. "This is happening. You're going on... your first date with a guy?" Ryan hazarded a guess. Jon looked embarrassed and nodded. "It's going to be fucking great, and you're going to have a wonderful time." His tone was still stern but he couldn't stop the small smile from forming when he saw how excited Jon was. His mind wandered back to the other half of this date. "Are Brendon and I just being dragged along as friends? Or, oh god, as chaperones? Is he even single?" Ryan found it hard to believe that someone that charismatic and gorgeous could be available. 

Jon pulled out of his grasp, chuckling as he grabbed his keys and started leading the way out of the house. "Oh yeah. The dude is perpetually unattached. That definitely doesn't stop him from getting laid on the regular, though." They stepped out into the brisk night air, and Ryan figured it had to be after ten o'clock at this point. He wasn't sure where they were meant to be getting dinner.

Ryan snorted. "That's nice for him, I guess." 

Jon looked at him carefully as they waited for a cab to show up. He hesitated before eventually saying, "I just don't want you to get hurt in this. I know how bad it can be to have unrequited feelings." 

Ryan frowned. "It's not like I'm in love with the guy. We've barely spent twenty minutes in each other's company." Jon's look turned knowing, as he pursed his lips and chose not to respond. The cab ride was short, and Ryan thanked Jon profusely for paying. 

"Well I'm going to make sure Spencer picks up the restaurant bill since all of this is his plan. So don't worry about it." Ryan felt his nerves kick into overdrive as he saw the place they were eating at. He didn't have to see a menu to know that the money he had left over from busking wouldn't buy an appetizer. He hoped Jon was serious about Spencer paying. Suddenly Jon's choice of footwear seemed even more ridiculous.

Upon entering, they were immediately greeted by the maitre d', whom Jon gave the fake name the reservation was under. They were escorted to the back of the restaurant, where the tables were more secluded and conversations couldn't be over heard. Ryan got the distinct impression that high profile business deals went down there. He also wasn't surprised to notice what looked like some high class escorts being wined and dined by their wealthier clients. Ryan ducked his head and tried to mind his own business. 

Brendon and Spencer were already waiting at the table when they arrived. Spencer seemed beyond nervous, and stood up as they arrived, looking like he was debating pulling Jon's chair out for him. Brendon looked like he was bored, his eyes only briefly skimming over Ryan as he took the seat next to him. Spencer eventually sat back down without saying anything.

Ryan looked over the menu, feeling out of place and overwhelmed. He knew what a handful of the items were in theory, but the ingredients listed all seemed unnecessarily fancy. Brendon sipped loudly from his glass of whiskey on the rocks while staring at Jon, and by the time the waitress took Ryan and Jon's drink orders, Ryan was drowning in discomfort. He asked for a rum and coke, while Jon opted for a strawberry daiquiri like Spencer had. They smiled at each other as the waitress went off to fetch the order. Ryan felt a need to draw Brendon's attention off of Jon, and attempted to get a conversation going. "So how was your day?" 

Brendon shrugged. "Didn't do anything. We don't have another show for a few days, so we played some video games." 

Ryan didn't know what to do with that information, and the only question he really wanted to ask, he couldn't work up the nerve to. "Cool." He noticed Spencer and Jon were conversing quietly, their smiles easy and their conversation flowing. Ryan frowned at them, trying to catch a snippet of their words. It sounded like an apology, but he couldn't tell who was doing the apologizing or for what. As glad as he was that things were working out for Jon, it left him alone to talk to Brendon, which was proving surprisingly difficult. The waitress came back with the drinks, taking their food orders, during which everyone ordered things Ryan didn't understand, and he ended up asking for the same as Spencer, and hoping it would be decent.

Ryan took a large mouthful of his drink, tasting the unpleasant alcohol flavour beneath the soda. He'd ingested more alcohol and drugs in the past week than he had in most of the rest of his life combined, and his body definitely wasn't feeling in peak condition. He eventually sighed, turning his whole body to face Brendon. "What's wrong with you today?"

Brendon shifted his eyes up from where they'd been resting on the table and squinted at him. "There's nothing wrong with me. This is how I always am." Ryan made a sardonic expression and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." Jon and Spencer were sitting closer to each other by the second, laughing at inside jokes and catching up. "Why are we even here? They don't need out help." They were too enthralled in their conversation to realize they were being spoken about.

"Spencer was nervous." Brendon said quietly, the slightest hint of a smile touching his lips. "But if you have somewhere better to be, by all means..." He raised his eyebrows, daring Ryan to leave.

Ryan huffed and slouched in his chair. "No, of course I don't. I never have anything to do." He didn't mean it in a self-depreciating way, but it certainly came out as that. Brendon studied his face and looked like he wanted to say something. "What?" Ryan prompted.

Brendon's look of apprehension grew as he seemed to blush the smallest amount. "Why didn't you call?" 

Ryan's mind went blank and couldn't process the words he had heard. "What?" He repeated. Brendon shook his head and moved his eyes back to the table. 

Just then, the waitress returned with the food. It seemed Ryan had ordered some kind of fish, which he ended up not hating. All conversation tapered out as they ate, Jon and Spencer smiling at each other an obnoxious amount.

"So, Jon." Brendon began, "What kind of music have you been writing?" Everyone else at the table tensed. 

"Can we not?" Spencer cut in harshly before Jon could answer. He stared silently at Brendon for a few seconds before the two of them resumed eating and acted as if nothing had happened. 

Brendon was the first to finish his food, and the second his plate was clear he slid his chair out, announcing that he was going for a smoke. He stalked away from the table without waiting for a reply. Jon turned to Spencer. "He's smoking again? I thought he knew how bad it could be for his voice." 

Spencer shrugged, giving Jon a long look. "He's been struggling lately. I think the pressure's getting to him." Ryan didn't stick around to hear the rest. He made his way out of the building and wandered down the sidewalk until he found Brendon leaning against the wall, one foot propped up behind him. 

Brendon glanced up when he heard him approaching. Ryan couldn't make out his expression in the dim streetlight, and he wondered if Brendon had stopped here because it was hard to be seen. "Do you mind?" He asked, holding his hand out, and Brendon eventually gave him a cigarette. They smoked in silence for a few moments until Ryan finally worked up the nerve to ask the question he'd been wondering. "Why did you invite me?"

"Why didn't you call me?" Brendon asked again, rather than answering the question. His tone was detached and neutral, though his posture showed tension. 

"I was going to eventually. It's been one day." He tried to laugh it off, lighten the mood a bit. 

"It obviously wasn't too soon for you to call Jon." A little of the bitterness crept into his voice. Ryan stepped closer to him, abandoning the remainder of his cigarette on the ground as Brendon finished his own. 

"You wanted me to call you?" Ryan leaned his side against the wall, facing Brendon, his chest just barely touching Brendon's arm. Brendon looked up at him out of the side of his eye. Ryan smirked and bit his lip. "We don't have to go back in there, right?" He nodded in the direction of the restaurant. 

Brendon leaned into him a little. "I think they were doing fine on their own." He paused for a moment before a wicked smile started to spread across his face. "Do you want to get out of here?" 

Ryan felt himself nodding before he'd consciously decided to do so.


	8. Chapter 8

Ryan was sitting in a cab, trying very hard to keep his hands to himself. Brendon was as far away from him as the width of the cab would allow, and he had a feeling it was for the same reason. His entire body felt electrified, and he couldn't think about anything apart from the sound of Brendon's deep breaths and the graceful shape of his fingers that were tightly grasping his own thighs. Ryan tried to close his eyes and calm down, but the drive felt like it was taking years, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. 

Brendon started making little impatient noises at the back of his throat, and when Ryan turned to make eye contact with him, he thought the other man was going to jump on him, regardless of the driver being present. When that didn't immediately happen, Ryan gritted his teeth and stared out the window at the passing buildings. He felt like his skin was on fire, and by the time the taxi was pulling to a stop, Brendon was shoving money at the driver and they were jumping out before the car had finished rolling. 

Brendon fumbled with the keys at the door, and Ryan stood behind him, breathing hot air against his neck. He didn't care if it made the process take longer, Ryan figured it was worth it when Brendon tipped his head back to rest on Ryan's shoulder and let out a soft growling noise. Ryan figured just about anything would be worth that. He gripped Brendon's hips tightly. "Let's make it inside, shall we?" He whispered, trailing his nose up Brendon's neck. Brendon nodded and went back to opening the door. 

Brendon's house seemed to be many times the size of Jon's, but Ryan really wasn't taking any of the details in as he spun Brendon around and pinned him to the door the second it had closed behind them. Brendon arched his back and pulled Ryan's hips towards his own as their faces got closer. Everything had felt so desperate and rushed while they were getting to this point, but suddenly everything slammed to a halt, their lips an inch apart, both breathing deeply. Ryan couldn't form any thoughts as he stared at Brendon's lips. They looked slightly moist from where he'd been biting them. 

After what felt like multiple minutes of inaction but was likely only a couple heart beats, Brendon eventually grabbed the back of Ryan's neck and pulled him down, finally connecting their lips. Brendon opened his mouth, running his tongue along Ryan's bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and dragging his teeth along it. Ryan let out a deep moan and pressed his entire body flush against Brendon's, and ran his hands up the man's sides. He then pulled Brendon away from the door and pushed him backwards down the hallway. "Where's the bedroom?" His voice came out gruff and needy, and had he been in a less one track state of mind, he might have been embarrassed by it. 

Brendon reattached their mouths as he lead them backwards, kicking a door open and dragging Ryan inside. Brendon's knees buckled when he hit the edge of the bed, and he lost his grip on Ryan as he flopped down onto in. Ryan pulled his shirt over his head before climbing up to straddle Brendon on the bed. Brendon sat up with Ryan now in his lap, and they pulled his shirt off together before resuming their kiss. He ground his pelvis down into Brendon's lap, trying to get some friction going. When this proved not satisfactory enough, he pushed Brendon to lay down, and then slipped one of his legs in between Brendon's, both of them moaning at the feeling of their erections pressing together through their pants. 

Brendon dragged his nails down Ryan's back, and Ryan started kissing his way down Brendon's chin to bite his neck. A moan that sounded like Ryan's name fell out of his mouth as he arched off the bed, rubbing himself against Ryan before starting to undo Ryan's belt. Together they worked off both of their pants and underwear, and Brendon flipped them over, sliding down the bed to take Ryan into his mouth. 

It wasn't like Ryan had never gotten head before; that certainly wasn't the case, but he'd never had someone blow him like their life depended on it. Brendon was so eager to please, sucking aggressively, then alternating running his tongue over the head and taking Ryan's entire length down his throat. The only choking noises were coming from Ryan trying to keep his moaning to a minimum. 

It had admittedly been quite a while since Ryan had been intimate with anyone, and he had to push Brendon off when he felt he was getting close. "Please tell me you have condoms." He said a little breathlessly. 

Brendon shot him an amused smile. "In every bedroom of the house." He winked, and unlike Ryan, managed to make it look sexy and confident. He crawled over Ryan to slide the bedside table open and pulled out a tube of lube and a condom which he passed to Ryan. "You can top. I'll need minimal prepping." Brendon was still on his hands and knees on the bed, and Ryan took the opportunity to stare at his ass, nodding soundlessly at the offer. 

Brendon hadn't been lying, and Ryan had no trouble sliding two fingers in and locating his prostate. His mind wanted to supply that it was like riding a bike, but he quickly pushed that thought away. Brendon grabbed a pillow to shove his face into as Ryan fingered him. "Please." He barely managed to choke out. 

Ryan didn't need to be asked twice. He was sliding the condom on and coating it with lube as Brendon lightly started stroking himself. Ryan batted his hand away and replaced it with his own as he pushed inside of Brendon, not stoping until he was all the way in. The whimpering noise Brendon made went straight to Ryan's dick as he picked up a steady rhythm and Brendon rocked back to meet his thrusts. 

Ryan bit down on Brendon's shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling that he wasn't going to last very long at all. Brendon made a displeased sound. "Could you not mark me?" He panted. "I take my shirt off for shows." Ryan shifted the angle of his hips slightly, managing to hit his proatate more directly. Brendon cursed loudly. "Oh fuck it, do whatever you want." The end of the sentence devolved into more moans and swear words as he came, his muscles contracting as he froze in place. Ryan continued to thrust into him before he found his own release, and they collapsed into a pile of limbs on the bed. 

Brendon shifted slightly so he wasn't laying on the wet part of the bed as Ryan removed the condom and tossed it into a nearby bin. Brendon cuddled up to him, tangling their legs and resting his head on Ryan's shoulder, nose nuzzling Ryan's chin. He seemed ready to fall asleep, and Ryan felt his chest constrict as he thought about staying the night. 

"Umm Bren, I think I should maybe go." He said softly.

"You don't have to." Brendon mumbled, his eyes closed and his body relaxed. 

"Thanks, but I really should. I'll get out of your way." He pulled his legs out from between Brendon's and got off the bed, searching the floor for his various articles of clothing. 

"Can I have your number?" Brendon asked, sitting up in the bed and looking more alert. 

"I don't really have a phone right now, but I'll call you?" Brendon's face seemed to lose all emotion as he nodded and laid back down on his side, watching Ryan. He finished getting dressed and approached the bed hesitantly, placing a hand on Brendon's arm. "Hey, have a good night." He said, pushing Brendon's hair out of his face and leaning down to kiss him. 

Brendon smiled softly at him as he let his eyes flutter closed. "You too."

Ryan left the room, finding his way back out of the house and onto the steet. He realised he had very little money and didn't really even know what part of town he was in, but he wandered the dark streets until he found a landmark he recognised. By the time he was falling onto his own mattress, staring up at the ceiling, his feet were sore and he had sweat through his shirt.

He'd spent the whole walk home feeling like an idiot for letting that happen. Clearly Brendon was just wasting time with him. He knew he was just another of many hook ups to the guy, but he couldn't stop thinking about him. 

His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he felt like crying as he curled up in the cold bed, feeling more alone than he ever had before.


	9. Chapter 9

Ryan woke up to the sound of the telephone on his bedside table ringing. He was a little disoriented at first, still not used to having a phone at all. He grabbed the wireless phone out of the cradle and held it to his ear, managing a croaky sounding "Hello?". He heard Jon's laughter at the other end. 

"Wow. You sound like death." Ryan squinted at the light coming through the window before pulling a pillow over his head.

"Did you really have to call to wake me up? You could have just walked downstairs and not given me an instant headache from the ringing." 

"Oh, Ry Ry Ry. Where's the fun in that?" He could hear the soft exhale of Jon's laugh through the phone. "There's food ready whenever you want to make it to the kitchen." Ryan groaned as the alcohol still in his stomach from the night before churned dangerously. He hung up and slammed the phone back into the holder before stumbling to the bathroom to vomit up the contents of his stomach. 

He admittedly felt much better once he was finished, and the idea of greasy bacon started to look real appealing. He threw on some sweatpants from his closet and shuffled his way down the hall to the kitchen, feeling like his feet were attached to cinder blocks. 

Jon was already sitting at a bar stool, looking like he'd gotten a full night's sleep rather than the three hours Ryan knew he'd gotten. "Good morning, sunshine." Jon singsonged to him as he entered.

"Fuck yourself. How are you not still drunk?" He grabbed a handful of bacon with his hand and shoved the whole thing in his mouth while Jon looked on in mild disgust.

"I didn't drink half as much as you. I was trying to network after the show." Ryan snorted.

"Network? With all three of the people in the crowd who knew who we were? And only then because they're fans of The Flying Rabbits?" Jon frowned at him as he continued eating all the various breakfast foods in large quantities.

"Even if they didn't know who we were going in, most of them liked the music. It's a good album. Besides, we've only played ten shows."

"Yeah, and the turnout for each one is worse than the last." Jon didn't have a response for that. "Hey, it's not like I'm looking to quit or anything. I just thought that once people heard our music, we'd be doing a little better than this by now."

"I get it. With the Rabbits we had a pretty uphill battle trying to get a label to sign us, but once we got the album out there, the hard part was over. It's almost the opposite this time around." 

Ryan nodded in agreement. "It was really nice to produce the record here in your studio, but the ease of it sort of set me up to think... I don't know. Build it and they will come? I didn't think we'd be spending night after night playing to apathetic crowds who are just hoping for Brendon to show up." 

Jon grimaced. "Yeah, it's definitely not what I'm used to either. I didn't realize people would blame me for leaving the band. They don't even know what happened. And it's not like I was hoping to capitalize on my fame, but I never really considered that we'd be starting from the ground up." They sat in silence for a while as Ryan finally ran out of room in his stomach for all the food on the table. He'd put on some weight in the past few months. Between eating Jon's food and working out with his personal trainer, he almost had a little bit of definition in a few of his muscles, though he was definitely still skinnier than the average guy his height. 

"I invited Spencer to our show tonight." Jon said lightly, trying to judge Ryan's reaction. 

"That's great. I'm sure he'll love it." Ryan tried to seem nonchalant, but it came out a little strained. 

"He's going to come alone." Jon added.

"Of course he is. Brendon hasn't talked to me in months. Why would he start now?" He got up from the counter and went back to his room, trying very hard not to slam the door in a fit of anger. 

After the night he'd slept with Brendon, the band with Jon had taken over his life. A few weeks had gone by, during which he'd made constant excuses to himself of why it wasn't the right time to call Brendon, and at a certain point it had started to feel too late. Once he'd given notice at his shitty apartment and moved into Jon's place, he thought he'd finally go for it. They were well into song writing for the album, and he'd had a rush of confidence. 

Then Spencer came over to watch a movie on Jon's couch, and Ryan had joined them halfway through, unable to pass up another viewing of Fight Club. They'd been more affectionate than usual, and Ryan had asked if it was an anniversary or something. Apparently the Rabbits were leaving for a European tour, and this was the last time they'd see each other for two months. 

Ryan's heart had dropped, and he realized he really had missed his window with Brendon. He had to leave the room after that, holing himself up in the music room and writing three full songs before Jon finally came in and made him go to bed. Because of this, perhaps the tone of the album leaned a little towards the longing and regret-filled side. This train of thought lead him to the conclusion that the failure of their band was all his fault, since he couldn't write happy pop songs that would sell well. 

By the time Jon was rounding him up to get dressed and make it in time for sound check, he'd gotten into a pretty deep funk. The idea of alcohol seemed appealing in theory, but when they got to the bar and he actually smelled the vodka spilled on the floor mixed with the slight waft of vomit coming from the bathrooms, he decided against it. 

Their sound check went by without event. Even the guys watching the levels and telling them which mic to sing into looked bored out of their minds. Ryan found it hard to put any amount of emotion behind the lyrics when he'd played them so many times they just felt like familiar sounds in his mouth. The first few times he'd sung them to Jon, alone in the studio with the recording devices all off, he'd felt the power of them so strongly he hadn't been able to hold back the tears. Now they felt like stories he told about a different person. 

They walked off the small stage, following the familiar path to the green room. They'd played this bar for most of their shows, but Ryan was really starting to worry that the pitiful crowds they were pulling wouldn't be enough for much longer. 

By the time they were up on stage playing the penultimate song of their set, Ryan wasn't even having fun. Music had never felt like a job for him before; it had always been a passion and a hobby. This felt like work. As he thanked the crowd and let them know this would be the last song they played, not that the audience seemed too sad to hear that, he saw Spencer standing in the wings. He was doing a good job of hiding in the shadows, and the crowd definitely wouldn't be able to see him, but Ryan's attention immediately went past him. He was not, in fact, alone. Ryan was torn between being happy to see Brendon's face, and feeling sick at the idea of singing this last song in front of him. 

Sure, he'd changed some pronouns here and there to make it sound like it was about a girl, but there was no way Brendon didn't know it was about him. Ryan had managed to convince himself that Brendon wouldn't hear the song. At the time it had seemed plausible. They were hardly being played on the radio, and Brendon's life was so busy he rarely heard music other than the stuff he was singing each night. That seemed like a stupid notion now as he announced the name of the song and watched Brendon's expression darken. He clearly had heard of it. 

Ryan played the song on autopilot, staring down at his feet for most of it. He couldn't keep the flush from spreading up his neck as he imagined what was going through Brendon's mind as he sung those words. Brendon probably thought he was some pathetic lovesick puppy who couldn't get over him. When the final note of the song rang out and the crowd gave a lukewarm round of applause, he felt about ready to die of embarrassment. 

He waved to the crowd as Jon gave a more enthusiastic good bye, and they left the stage together. Spencer jumped on Jon the second he was within reach, kissing his face and mumbling about how great he did. Ryan felt himself smiling as he watched them, despite the fear in his gut about the man standing next to them. 

When they finally broke apart, Jon clapped Brendon on the shoulder. "You made if after all! I thought you were too busy." 

Brendon seemed very tense as he forced a smile at Jon. "Spencer wanted me to keep him company." He shot a glare at the man.

"Well also..." Spencer put one arm around Jon's shoulders and the other around Brendon's, looking back and forth between the two. "I wanted everyone to hear my brilliant idea at once." Jon looked intrigued while Brendon suddenly looked very apprehensive. "Bren already knows this part, but we're renting out a cabin for the band to stay in for a week while we're on break. And I was sitting around thinking about how sad it'll be that you won't be there, when I realized, hey, why can't you be there?" He was smiling like he'd just fixed world hunger. "You guys have a loose contract with this place, so you can take off a few weeks and come with us!" 

Ryan wasn't sure if Spencer was including him in this plan, but judging from the murderous look Brendon had donned since the brilliant idea had been revealed, he really didn't want to be. Before he could get a full word of rebuttal out, Jon had already chimed in. "That is brilliant!" He kissed Spencer's cheek. "Ryan can come too, right?" He purposely addressed his question to Brendon, who seemed unable to deny the pleading looks Spencer and Jon were giving him. 

He sighed deeply, and Ryan was very aware that his eyes hadn't come anywhere near Ryan during the length of this conversation. "Of course. The more, the merrier." He monotoned. 

Jon let out a whoop before grabbing Spencer's face and smashing it against his own. Ryan glanced away from the couple and his eyes briefly met Brendon's, before Brendon turned on his heel and marched out of the building.


	10. Chapter 10

Ryan was laying on the couch in the living room, pretending to read a book he couldn't focus on. He'd read the same paragraph at least twelve times, and he hadn't absorbed any of it. He let out an annoyed sigh, placing the book on his chest and looking down the hall to where the music was coming from. 

Without ever discussing it, all of them had brought instruments to the cabin. It was meant to be a vacation, but it seemed none of them wanted a vacation from the music. Maybe just from the stress and the concert atmosphere. 

It had been easy to break the news of their trip to the owner of the bar. He'd said he already had other acts lined up to take their place, which neither of them had felt was reassuring. He and Jon had driven up separately in Jon's car, since the amount of luggage everyone had packed made it unlikely that that they could have all fit in one car with any amount of comfort being had. 

Upon arrival that morning, Ryan had immediately hidden in his room, claiming he wanted to take a nap. If he was being forced to be here against Brendon's will, he'd at least do his best to stay out of the other man's way. It turned out Brendon was paying for the rental, and as annoyed as he was that the guy was acting so childish in ignoring him, he didn't feel a need to ruin his holiday. 

The bedroom next to his had apparently been designated the music room, and Ryan had hoped coming out to the living room would allow him some peace, but he felt drawn to the music. The sound of Jon and Dallon's basses with Spencer playing a cajon he'd brought, weren't complimenting Brendon's voice in the way he felt his guitar would. His fingers twitched as he listened to the covers of classic songs they were playing. 

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed his guitar from his room; he'd brought his old one, even though Jon had bought him quite a few since they'd started the band. It felt familiar and comfortable to him, even as he entered the room to emotions varying from delight to displeasure at his arrival. 

"Yessss Ryan!" Jon grinned at him as they all stopped playing mid song. "Knew you couldn't stay away forever."

"Do you mind if I join?" He addressed his question to Brendon who had schooled his features into a neutral expression. Spencer and Jon turned to look at Brendon, while Dallon seemed distracted by something on his phone and didn't notice the sudden tension in the room.

"Of course." Brendon said shortly, before moving to sit at the keyboard. The balance of instruments was much better this way, and everyone started to relax a little as they took turns picking songs and fumbling their way through them, mostly by improvisation. 

After about an hour, Brendon leaped to his feet, managing to startle Jon who was closest to him. "I want to go swimming." He announced dramatically. His statement was met with mostly grimaces and looks of apprehension. "Come on Weekes! I'm not going alone." He grabbed Dallon under the arms and dragged him to the door as they both broke out in laughter. 

"Fiiiine." Dallon shrieked. "I'll come. Just let me get my suit."

Brendon pouted at him dramatically before smacking his ass as he walked passed him. "Where's the fun in that?" Their laughter pierced through Ryan as a dark lump of emotion settled in his stomach. When he looked away from the now empty door frame, Spencer had his arm around Jon's shoulders, and they both looked a little sad. Ryan felt like he was in the way of an intimate moment and mumbled something about taking a shower before leaving the room as quickly as possible. 

He went back to his bedroom, stopping to look out the window as Brendon and Dallon ran down to the lake, shoving each other and screaming. He regretted, not for the first time, agreeing to come up here. He grabbed his journal and flipped to an empty page, pausing with his pen just above the paper. He wanted to write more miserable, emotional music like he had for the album. It came naturally, and acted as a sort of catharsis. Instead, he forced himself to write about how he wanted things to be. He wrote about all the possible futures that he wished would happen, and then maybe put a bit of a dark twist on some parts, because let's be real, he couldn't help himself. He figured if they set it to some upbeat music, most of the listeners wouldn't notice anyway. 

By the time his eyes felt dry, and his penmanship had become more or less illegible, he could hear the distant noises of people cooking in the kitchen, and figured he should offer to help. Everyone was in the kitchen except Dallon, and it was far too small for the three men already in there. Ryan looked into the room, feeling claustrophobic without even going in. "Can I help? Maybe set the table or something?" He asked hopefully. 

"Dallon already set it." Brendon replied without looking at him. Ryan made an ahh sound and continued to stand there, awkwardly. 

"We've got it. You can help clean up after." Jon said softly, briefly stopping to rest a hand on Ryan's arm. Ryan managed a half smile and a nod, wandering off to the living room. Dallon was sitting on the couch staring at his phone. He had a slight smile on his face. Ryan hesitated in the doorway to the room, but Dallon had already seen him and patted the empty couch as an invitation. 

"Hey man, how's it going?" Dallon shoved his phone in his pocket as he asked. Ryan nodded and shrugged, not really knowing what to say to this guy he barely knew. "Did you get a nap in while we were swimming?"

"Naw, I actually wrote a bunch. Kind of just had to get the words on the page."

Dallon nodded. "Yeah, I know what that's like." Ryan was a little surprised. 

"You write lyrics?" He didn't mean for it to be an insulting question, but he hadn't known that about Dallon. 

"Yeah. They're not really the Rabbit's style, so I doubt we'll ever play any of them, but I write. I was in a band before this one, you know?" 

"Oh yeah?" Ryan realized he knew nothing about Dallon.

"Yeah. I wrote the songs, and was the lead singer. It was great, but we never really went anywhere." 

"I know what that feels like." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

"Hey, you and Jon will make it one way or another. Sometimes bands don't work out, but if you love the music enough, you'll find a way to keep making it." Ryan felt a little annoyed that he was starting to like Dallon. Of course the guy had to be perfect. 

"You love the music you're making now?" Ryan asked.

Dallon didn't get to respond, as Spencer shouted to them from the other room that dinner was served. He may have also called them peasants. Dallon seemed grateful for the distraction as he jumped up from the couch, folding into a low bow and offering Ryan his hand to help him up. Ryan laughed, making a confused face, and taking his hand to allow himself to be pulled to his feet. Dallon winked at him before leading the way to the dining room. 

Dinner passed in a mostly silent, but not all together uncomfortable, blur. The food was decent, considering none of them were master cooks by any means, and they reached over each other and stole food from one another's plates like one big, happy family. 

As soon as they were done, Ryan started clearing the dishes, feeling obligated since he hadn't helped cook. Dallon disappeared somewhere, on his phone again, and Spencer and Jon said something about skinny dipping that may or may not have been in jest. 

Ryan was washing the first pile of dishes as he noticed Brendon helping to clear the table. When they made eye contact, Ryan smiled softly at him. "You don't have to do that. You made the food." He tried to make it clear that he didn't mind Brendon being near him, just that he was trying to be polite. 

Brendon shrugged. "I don't mind." They worked in silence for a while, and Ryan felt hyper aware of Brendon's presence whenever he got close to him in the small room. He started to feel very warm, and needed to undo a couple of the buttons on his shirt to be able to breathe. When they were almost done with the dishes, Brendon now drying as Ryan washed, Jon bounded into the room holding a joint. 

"Forget the rest for now. We're building a campfire and getting high!" He smiled like a little kid on Christmas, causing Brendon to laugh affectionately. 

They followed Jon out into the back yard, where chairs and blankets had been set up around the fire pit. Dallon was lighting the fire, which was only just starting to catch on the kindling. Jon and Spencer had cuddled up under a blanket, laying on the ground with their feet stretched out toward the pit. Ryan picked a chair and pulled his feet up under him, gladly accepting the joint when it was passed to him. 

He'd really gotten used to the quality pot that it seemed musicians had access too. It made the stuff he used to buy from a friend of a friend in high school seem like garbage. He felt light and happy, looking around at the smiling faces of his friends. He guessed they were the closest things he had to friends at least. Dallon declined the offer to smoke, and left shortly after to make a phone call. 

"Is he okay?" Ryan asked as he watched Dallon walk off. He really just wanted for everyone to have a good time and be happy. 

"Yeah, he's just missing his wife and kids." Spencer answered as Ryan choked on the drag he was taking. He coughed and sputtered as his eyes watered. 

Oh. Ryan's mind rejoiced. So there wasn't anything going on with him and Brendon. As one of the songs he'd written earlier started playing in his head, the future suddenly looked a little brighter after all.


	11. Chapter 11

The fire had been burning for a few hours, and they'd all stopped caring enough to stoke it. Ryan was staring, hypnotized by the dancing flames licking at the logs. He watched the way they lit up bright red, glowing with the high temperatures they were under, and he remembered the gist of a quote he read once. It was something about human lives being like flames, more beautiful for the fact that they would eventually burn out. In this moment, he felt that more than he ever had. He looked around the circle, at the faces illuminated by the light, and couldn't help but smile with affection. 

Spencer was drifting in and out of sleep, leaning back against Jon's chest, before Jon finally nudged him gently and said they should go to bed. They walked back up to the cabin, arms slung around each other, looking barely conscious. 

Ryan laid back on the blanket he'd moved to and felt overwhelmed by the number of stars he could see. The sky looked like it was more light than darkness, despite it being the middle of the night. He wasn't sure how long he'd been trying to make out constellations that he barely knew the general shapes of when he felt Brendon laying down next to him on the blanket, their arms not quite touching. Ryan glanced around and noticed Dallon had left at some point. Wow, he was really having trouble paying attention. 

"Look, I'm truly sorry I didn't call." He glanced at Brendon out of the corner of his eye and saw he was also staring at the sky. He didn't seem angry, which he took as a good sign, along with the fact that he had willingly come near him.

"It's fine. I wish I'd known that before we'd slept together, but I get it." Ryan rolled onto his side, looking down at Brendon, their faces closer than he'd intended. 

"I'm not sure you do, because I had no idea why I was acting that way until recently." Brendon tilted his head to look at him, arching an eyebrow. "I was so fucking insecure." He continued, feeling the words were hard to say, despite the multiple songs he'd put the same emotions into. "You were some wildly successful musician, and I was barely making enough money to stay off the streets at night." 

Brendon's face looked open and vulnerable, and Ryan wasn't sure how much of that was due to the pot. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right?"

Ryan shrugged his one shoulder that was in the air. "It mattered to me."

Brendon quirked one side of his mouth, looking hesitant. "Past tense?" 

Ryan nodded. "Definitely." They stared at each other for a little bit before Ryan's eyes widened with realization. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He got up and ran to the cabin, an irrepressible smile forming on his face. 

When he returned with his guitar and journal, Brendon looked confused. "I wrote these lyrics, and in my head the songs are amazing, but something wasn't sounding right when I sang them." He opened the book to the first song he had written yesterday and turned it to face Brendon. "It's because it was your voice singing them in my head, not my own." To his surprise, Brendon blushed deeply. 

Ryan had scribbled on the page which chords were meant to be played, so Brendon was able to figure out when to sing with relative ease. Even though his voice was soft and hesitant in the quietness of the night, mixing with the soft lapping of the waves against the shore, and the chirping of crickets in the distance, Ryan thought it sounded perfect. They were both grinning at each other by the time the song finished. Brendon flipped the page to the next song and looked at Ryan expectantly, waiting for his lead.

As they played through all the ones he'd written that day, he realized he liked the way this felt. Hearing his words in Brendon's mouth somehow made them palatable. He was able to appreciate the song, and not be overwhelmed with the meaning of the words he'd written. 

They were sitting with their legs crossed, facing each other. Ryan put his guitar aside and leaned slowly in, judging Brendon's reaction. Brendon's eyes grew wide as he watched Ryan get closer. He seemed frozen in place, and Ryan stopped just before their noses touched. Ryan bit his own lip and ran his tongue along it, waiting to see what Brendon would do. Their eyes never wandered from the other's, as they stayed there, breathing in unison, until Brendon finally closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against Ryan's. Ryan couldn't help the smile that formed as he brought his hand up to run his thumb over Brendon's cheekbone. 

After a few seconds of the kiss, Brendon pulled back, smiling at him from under his bangs. The fire had all but burned out by this time. A few embers were still glowing, and Ryan got a bucket of water to put it out fully. He then offered Brendon his hand, pulling the man to his feet, grabbing his guitar, and walking back to the cabin hand in hand. 

They stopped in the hallway outside of Brendon's room, and Ryan hesitated, not wanting to be presumptuous. "I'd like for you to sleep in my bed. I just... want to take it slowly this time." Brendon seemed to cringe at his own words. 

"That sounds perfect." Ryan reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze. They crawled under the blankets together, and Brendon curled up in a ball with Ryan hugging his back. The other man felt so small and fragile in his arms, and he hated that he'd ever hurt him. He pressed a kiss to the back of Brendon's head as their breathing evened out and they drifted off to sleep.

\-------

The next morning Ryan woke up with Brendon still in his arms, and he figured it was going to be a pretty great day, even if nothing went well after that moment. The air in the room was cool, and he snuggled closer under the covers. Brendon hummed approvingly and turned around in his grasp, burying his face against Ryan's neck. "Good morning." He mumbled. 

Ryan chuckled and kissed the top of his head. He felt a slight fluttering in his stomach when Brendon started to mouth at his neck, his hands tightening in Brendon's shirt. "Good morning indeed." Brendon pulled back and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. "Breakfast?" Ryan offered. 

"Oh, hell yes." They made their way out to the kitchen, being met with smirks and genuine smiles from the other guys. Dallon had apparently been up for a while and made the food already. Ryan thanked him, feeling like finally everything was turning out okay. 

Over breakfast, Spencer asked what everyone wanted to do for the day. Brendon immediately spoke up. "We can do whatever later on, but you guys have to hear the songs Ryan wrote first." Spencer and Jon both nodded excitedly. 

Dallon made a face that Ryan couldn't interpret. "I think I'm going to call home, actually." 

Ryan nodded immediately. "Yeah, of course. We can play them for you later if you want."

Dallon smiled tightly and left the table. Brendon looked after him, frowning. Ryan was pretty sure he knew what was wrong, but didn't feel it was his place to say anything. Once they were done eating, Brendon demanded everyone ignore the dishes and go immediately to the music room, where he sat with Ryan's journal in his lap.

"Did you have any plans for the bass or percussion?" Brendon asked Ryan from his spot on the floor as Ryan got his guitar strap situated on his shoulder. 

"Naw, not really. It's all still super rough." Ryan answered, staring at his hands. He played through the first song as Brendon sang. Spencer played along with a rudimentary rhythm, feeling the song out. Jon jumped in doing the same thing. They started to mix it up after the first couple of play throughs, giving each other suggestions and working harmoniously together. By the time the song started to come together and sound like a fully fledged piece, Ryan was grinning with happiness. 

His song writing process had always been a lonely one, save for the few time Jon had joined him and given some opinions. This realization that they could come together as a unit and make one of the best songs he'd ever been a part of writing had him dizzy with excitement. He didn't even care about the others watching as he crawled over to Brendon, taking his face in his hands and kissing him deeply. Brendon grinned at him and winked as they pulled apart. 

He'd been right about the day being pretty great.


	12. Epilogue

The crowd's applause was thunderous. Dallon had just climbed back on stage from where he'd walked through the crowd, and he had them hanging on his every movement. He shushed them, and an all encompassing hush spread over the room. "I know you're excited for this next band." The room erupted with screams before he made them quiet again. "How about we play one last song for you though?" He signaled the drummer and they kicked into the song as the crowd sung along to every word.

"Yep, he's still great at getting the crowd riled up." Ryan yelled to Brendon over the music backstage. They were standing in the wings watching Dallon's new band play their set. Brendon nodded as IDKHow wrapped up and took their bows. Dallon looked happier than Ryan had ever seen him as he came off stage. He hugged each of them in turn, thanking them again. 

"Seriously, getting to play my own music to a crowd this receptive is a dream come true." Dallon yelled over the cheering that hadn't died down yet. 

"Your music's great." Ryan yelled back, clapping him on the arm with a smile. 

"I'm going to shower and then I'll watch you guys play." Dallon bounced past them heading to the dressing room, full of energy from a great performance. 

When Ryan turned back to Brendon he saw him grinning. "How is it possible that everything worked out this perfectly?" 

Ryan smacked his arm playfully. "Hey, don't jinx us! We haven't even played yet. You could mess up the lyrics, or I could trip over my own feet and eat shit on stage." Brendon laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. 

"Time to find out." Jon and Spencer joined them at the side of the stage. The three picked up their first instruments while Spencer pulled his drumsticks out of his back pocket. They took their places on the stage, barely able to see the audience beyond the bright spotlights. Ryan could see a couple signs being held up, but couldn't make out what they said. 

"It's great to be back." Brendon announced up at his mic. "I know we look a little different from the last time you saw us, and we even have a new name, but thank you all so much for coming out. We are called Panic! at the Disco, and we hope you're ready for a great night." He turned around to look at his new band as Spencer counted them in, and they begun the first show of the tour.


End file.
